


The Weapon In My Mind

by lostinthesounds



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, post 6x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/pseuds/lostinthesounds
Summary: Clarke wakes up on the Ark, when she’s certain that she’s done this before. She’s lived a life outside of the Ark, on the ground and alone.It’s abrupt, a painful shock, and she starts to panic.She doesn’t expect to see a young woman walk through the door, and can’t describe the feeling of sudden familiarity she feels. What’s happening?





	The Weapon In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I had to do it.

If Clarke could put her experiences into words, she would describe the last few seconds as peaceful and somewhat calm. 

 

Her eyes closed with bliss, the world she knew turned to black. Then suddenly, it had sprung into color. 

 

Her mind spiraling into green, blue, a blazing fire in orange, and the brown of Madi’s soft hair— _wait_ , Madi? 

 

If she actually thought about it, she hadn’t seen the little girl in what seemed like forever. She doesn’t stop the feeling deep within her chest, that tells her that something is wrong because her instincts never fail. It spreads like the fire she had imagined earlier, thick with smoke that could suffocate her and tears that stung her eyes. 

 

Soon enough, her brain picks up on the signals she’s trying to send, because for some odd reason—her eyes wouldn’t open no matter how hard she tried. 

 

“ _Clarke, is that you?_ ” 

 

Her mind is telling her to squirm, to give any sign of life but she physically couldn’t move anything. Not even her fingers, which were aching to do something. 

 

“ _Clarke Griffin_?,” The person who’s speaking to her, sounds like she’s asking a question rather than trying to spark a conversation. “ _Josephine_? _Jo, sweetheart I’m so happy to have you back in my arms aga_ —“ 

 

The voice cuts off, so does her consciousness. 

 

It doesnt take long to realize she’s paralyzed, or to take note of the fact that her name isn’t Josephine. 

 

Clarke felt herself drown in the dark, the emptiness surrounding herself and everything around her had quickly made it clear for her to grasp. 

 

She wasn’t Clarke anymore. But, it was still difficult to piece certain pieces together. Specifically, she didn’t understand why she was still in control of what she knew, or why she could hear Josephine and her parents so clearly if she wasn’t supposed to be _alive_. 

 

Her heart is pounding, the thought of being trapped in her own mind was terrifying. 

 

She tries to grab her shirt to give her comfort, but her hand goes through the material and thats enough to send her over the rail. Clarke was scared, and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking after that. 

 

However, the events that followed was what surprised her the most. There’s a sharp pain in the side of her forehead, spreading to the bottom of her neck and she hisses in pain. Her blue eyes close on instinct, her right hand reaches back to rub her skin to try and relieve any of the pressure and suddenly it was _too_ much at one time. She had no idea how she ended up on the floor, her head had hit first and the headache vanished at the same time. Her body felt cold, ice to the touch and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

 

 

Clarke felt like she was suffocating. 

 

 

Insufferable amounts of disbelief and shock, she felt it _all_. 

 

In a flash of white light, she ignores the blanket under her body and the pillow where her head was resting for the few seconds before—and she pushes herself up into a sitting position and she tries to breathe normally. 

 

She ignored the thin material on her skin, she tries to forget about the fact that she’s worn these exact clothes before, and she _most_ definitely tries to ignore how difficult it was to breathe heavily in space. Clarke clutches her chest, as her left hand tries to pry at the material of her cargo pants because it felt so foreign. 

 

She only realized what she doing after her breathing had been under control, letting herself adjust to the brightness around her. 

 

She looks around carefully, and it’s just like how she remembered. The drawing of Mount Weather on the metal panels she used to call floors, she had almost forgot about that. Her brows furrowed together, wondering how her charcoal strokes could look so defined in a dream? 

 

Clarke stands on wobbly legs, taking a minute to stay in one place so she wouldn’t fall forward. Why was it so hard to walk? She takes small steps, and once she gets used to it, she looks up. 

 

She gasps, suddenly feeling the small breeze throughout the room in her bones and it’s a daunting realization. There was a cluster of drawings in every space, every inch, every crevice of the wall. 

 

On _each_ wall. 

 

She didn’t draw this much on the original Ark, she wouldn’t dare use her supplies this recklessly. 

 

Clarke _knew_ this. 

 

It was her fault that she had stumbled backwards, loosing her balance and fell to the floor. Her chest caving hard, her lungs trying to regain oxygen, her mind spinning in circles. 

 

She feels sick. 

 

She ignores the sting of her body hitting the ground, dismissing the fact that her muscles ached to keep her upright. 

 

Her eyes had scanned the room so fast and so many times in little time, her ears numb to sound and the headache soon returning. It was a buzz in her ears, the way her heart would pound against her head. 

 

“Raven?” She breathes out, and she shakes her head multiple times. It was the brunette hunched over a desk at Camp Jaha, and it made her wonder. Was she working on the bomb that blew up the bridge? She couldn’t tell. 

 

She moves onto the next one. 

 

The tears started to form in her soft eyes, making it difficult to focus. She had to figure this out, she had to find out what was happening to her. 

 

“Roan?” She whispered, too afraid to speak up. It was the king, with his crown adorning the top of his head and the memory is so sharp that it hurts. It was when he had just become king, and she was in the crowd. It was strategic to get to know him, but in the end, they would’ve been better friends than enemies. 

 

Clarke knew that she had very limited access to paper to draw, and she never drew this much. She never drew to such an extent, to where all the important people in her life had appeared in front of her. She _never_ had enough charcoal to do half of these, and it makes her dizzy. 

 

How did they even get on the Ark? In her old cell block, or in her past life way before she met most of the people decorated on the wall.  

 

Her throat goes dry once she recognizes more and more people. _Murphy, Anya, Wells, Jake Griffin, Monty and Harper_. 

 

The tears start to roll down her cheeks and her face feels hot, warm with her express of emotion. 

 

 _Lexa_. 

 

She shakes her head, not willing to look at the picture of the woman she eventually learned to love, who taught her the strength to make hard decisions. 

 

Her heart clenched hard in her chest, and it hit Clarke so hard that she had to wipe at her eyes aggressive until she was sure hey had turned red with irritation. The next picture she had seen was Bellamy, and she wanted to scream. 

 

He was so young in the drawing. 

 

So naive, stubborn and his only priority had been his younger sister. It reminded her of a time where trust was the easiest to gain with a bunch of reckless teenagers and not the hardest to keep once things got difficult. She had trusted him with every ounce of her body, even then, to do the right thing. 

 

To protect their people. 

 

 

To protect _her_. 

 

 

It stung to look away this time, knowing he had no clue of what had happened to her. He must’ve been terrified of the possibilities, or oblivious to the change of a girl he once knew. 

 

She had lost so many people she had loved before, she didn’t _want_ to lose Bellamy now. He was the one who stood by her when she made those hard decisions that their other friends would criticize her for, he had truly been her partner for as long as time allowed them to be. 

 

Time ripped them apart, the simple fact of being separated by space and thousands of miles was enough to crack Clarke’s true feelings about the man to the surface. If she didn’t know the meaning of true love before, she knew it _existed_ when Bellamy stepped out of the rover beside Madi and rescued her after six years. 

 

She knew it, as her heart was beating so fast against her chest when Bellamy had pulled her impossibly close and his hands were touching her skin. She had never felt more alive, and she couldn’t imagine a life without him. 

 

Clarke had to stand blindly as her friends lived around her, a pattern to their everyday life that she wasn’t used to. 

 

She had to imagine a life with everyone she loved inside, because they didn’t want her in _theirs_. 

 

After everything that happened in Eden she was ready for a second chance, a life where she’s free of sin. It’s why she apologized to Bellamy, it’s why she spilled her heart on her sleeve and admitted that she was never looking forward to making choices that would hurt him. If she were to hurt the man she loved, it was always be her last resort. 

 

Clarke’s brain felt like mush, she was trying to regain her memories as she looked around the room. 

 

Bellamy, _again_. She finds him in the corner, his face a clear print of charcoal. His face scrunched with pain, his hazmat suit hadnt been zipped up fully. His head turned to press into her neck, and Clarke doesn’t have the effort to fight herself to keep staring. It was the time where the radio had broken, and she wouldn’t be able to talk to her mother. 

 

That was the day that changed _everything_. Clarke swallows harshly, raising herself on weak arms and sits upright. The room was awfully quiet. 

 

She hated being alone with her thoughts because it brought out the monsters, the demons of her past, the innocent people that paid the price. 

 

She hated it, she hated _herse_ — a noise from outside her door had startled her.

 

Suddenly, her thoughts are disrupted and a spur of hope wants to erupt in her chest because maybe, they would be able to help her? She needs answers on what was going on, there was no time to be terrified of the worst. 

 

There’s a noise outside her door, and the metal creaks open and the sound makes Clarke flinch.

 

She frowns almost immediately once she sees a flash of blonde hair yet its clouded by curiousity and if she was honest with herself, real  _fear_. 

 

Clarke’s breath hitched, “Who are you?” Her voice was small and hoarse. 

 

The girl, wearing a leather jacket and her hair pinned back with pins and black pants. The boots she was wearing, had similar styles to Clarke’s. 

 

“Oh, me?” The girl responds, as if she didn’t hear. “I’m Josephine Lightbourne, but I guess you’ve heard of me already?” 

 

“How would I—“ Clarke stuttered. The words replaying in her mind at a record speed, _Jo, sweetheart I’m so happy_...

 

It’s the girl from her dream, and her eyes bulge as they lock gazes. 

 

“Remember me, now?” Josephine asks with a half smile, and she closes the door behind her. The creak startled them both but she turns to face Clarke, “My dad used to call me Jo when I was younger.” 

 

“Russel?,” Clarke adds. “That’s your dad?” 

 

Josephine nods her head, and taps Clarke’s ankle with the heel of her boot. 

 

“I just have one question to ask before you get to ask me any,” The other blonde says, more like demands Clarke to stay quiet while she speaks. Her brows furrowed together, like she was actually shocked about whatever she was going to explain. Her head tilts and she squats down to get closer to Clarke, “How did you know I exist? The chip usually knocks the other’s person’s conscience straight out of their body. _You_ aren’t supposed to know I’m in _your_ body.” She empathized. 

 

“ _What_?,” Clarke replied, her legs start to scramble and she’s trying to get a grip on the floor to move away from the girl but she can’t find the strength to push herself away. She feels like she’s sliding in the same spot, “You, _You_ can’t be.”’

 

”Clarke, I’m not trying to hurt you.” 

 

“Why are you here? How did _I_ get here?” 

 

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” Josephine says in annoyance, her voice high pitched. Her hand grips onto Clarke’s knee to keep her in place, a devious look in her eyes. “Clarke, you’ve been keeping me awake at night and I can’t sleep.” 

 

“So, I’m awake?” She sighs in relief, shaking Josephine’s hand off. “I’m not dead, so that means I can get rid of you.” 

 

Clarke knew it would be a challenge to fight someone when she didn’t have any weapons, or when she didn’t know their weaknesses on a battlefield. But maybe it could work for her advantage? To know her strategies. 

 

Josephine shakes her head in disagreement, “If you keep trying to regain your memories, then you’ll succeed indefinitely.” She pauses to grab Clarke’s ankle, and she pulls hard on her foot. Clarke gasped as she tries to reach for the other girl’s hand before she can actually get hurt, “So therefore, I can’t let you have your memories back.” 

 

“You’re gonna kill me?” Clarke hissed out. “Go ahead and try, I’m still the person who lived in this body way before you did. It’s _mine_.” She finally gets a hold of Josephine’s hand, and kicks her away. 

 

“If I can knock you out long enough for me to wake up, and the memories vanish for good,” She pauses after hitting the floor, she gets up fast. “Then you’ll be gone and your body will be _mine_ for as long as I live.”

 

Just as she says those words, Clarke turns to the side as realizes that one of the largest drawings of Raven has begun to disappear. A few seconds later, and she’s gone and the section had gone bare. 

 

“See, it’s already happening.” 

 

“What happens if you lose?” Clarke asks quickly, struggling to get to her feet but eventually manages. “Do you die?” 

 

“You get your memories back, and the chip in your neck is practically useless to my father.” Josephine responds, and stands to get on her feet. Both women were standing, a small distance between them with a fight for survival just waiting to happen.

 

“I just want to live, Clarke.” Josephine paused, twirling her hair between her fingers and Clarke could feel her heart race. “You can relate to that, as you’ve done what you had to do to protect the people you love at whatever cost.” She made a point to narrow her eyes, wanting the reminder to cut deep. 

 

Clarke swallows her nerves, and focuses on the anger she ultimately feels for this entire situation. Someone had put a chip in her neck, a chip that contained the life of another person (she had no idea that the technology even existed) to kill the host. To kill _her_. How was that right? How was that justified? 

 

She could wish for the return of all of the friends she’s lost, but wouldn’t want them to return if they had done what was needed to survive. If her friends would be brought back without their will, or lack of good character then how would it be worth the trouble of hurting someone else. It simply wouldn’t, and couldn’t be the best thing to do. 

 

Clarke knew that. 

 

Now, she had to fight to prove it. 

 

 

“How do I get you out of my head?” She asks roughly, trying to keep the intensity of her gaze on Josephine. 

 

“It’s simple.” The other blonde shrugs her shoulders, only to take off her jacket and throw it to the side. “You’re gonna have to beat me up enough that we pass out in real time. Yet, knowing your friend and how depressed he is right now,” Clarke gasps, the air in the room getting thick and heavy. Josephine frowned, “He would do the procedure fast enough to where I can’t stop him.” 

 

Clarke shook her head in response, her brain too highwired on the fact that the person she was talking about had been to worried about her. She _knew_ —

 

Josephine took her opportunity to strike and lurched forward to wrap both hands around Clarke’s neck and she puts enough pressure to where Clarke has to look up at her, her eyes wide and hands struggling at her side. They stumble against one of the cell walls, Josephine putting her weight on Clarke so that she can’t escape easily. 

 

She taunts her host, “Wasn’t prepared for that weren’t you?” Josephine seemed to find joy in the way Clarke still hasn’t figured it out yet, loosening her grip so the other girl could catch a breath. “What’s his name? Bellamy, I think. He’s ready to tear the entire planet apart for you, did you know that?” 

 

Clarke’s wild eyes had finally found an opportunity, realizing that her body was in between Josephine’s stance and she raises her knee to get leverage and uses that to kick her in the thigh. She doesn’t know how much strength she had in the delivery, but she thinks she was successful when Josephine’s hands fall from her neck. 

 

She breathes heavy, her chest is caving in and forward more times than she would like or find normal. Clarke can’t lose this fight, she had to do something else to leverage herself. 

 

Her mind was too focused on the thought of Bellamy, her love for him had grown over the years into something indescribable. She had never loved anyone like him, and could only imagine how difficult it must’ve been to lose her again. That’s _why_ she can’t lose this, she has to get back to him to prove that she doesn’t like it when she uses her head to make decisions. It’s why she can’t forget about him, not now. 

 

“He’s okay?” Clarke asks, panting. “You didn’t hurt him?” 

 

“I wanted to kill him originally,” The other blonde said, and Clarke got herself off the wall to push Josephine to the floor with enough force to make her wince. 

 

Josephine extends her hands out, only to shake her head for Clarke to stop. “Then I got your friend Murphy to help me out and he stopped me.” 

 

“You were going to take him away from me, and then what? Run away!” Clarke gets ontop of Josephine, grabbing the girl’s collar to pull upwards so that they were close. It was dramatic, but she just needed to understand the motive. 

 

“I didn’t want to kill him then,” Josephine says, as if it would make the thought any less daunting. Clarke didn’t see it coming, she was too distracted with a drawing of Monty disappear in the far left corner of her eye and she looked up. 

 

 _Who was he_?

 

After a few seconds, she couldn’t figure it out. 

 

A sharp punch to the left side of Clarke’s face, had made her fall off of Josephine’s body and she landed beside her. Her cheek stung, but she tried to open her blue eyes that were filling with tears. From what? She couldn’t have only one answer. 

 

“But now,” Josephine grunts, copying what Clarke had done beforehand and pounced on her to gain the upper hand. Her voice menacing, low and cut through Clarke’s heart like a knife. “You better hope I’m not the one making it out of here in the morning, or I’ll consider the whole ‘ _killing the man you love_ ’ option of my plan.” 

 

Josephine looks around the room, oblivious to the way Clarke had been trying to push her away from her body but she was weak. Like every other host she’s had in the past, and it made her tilt her head down and smile. Clarke may have more memories than any girl she’s conquered, but she would win like always. Nothing would change. 

 

With the revelation of two large empty spaces in a room full of charcoal drawings, Josephine speaks again. 

 

“That’s if I don’t keep you long enough in here and you naturally _forget_ about him anyways.” 

* * *

 

 

“If you bleed, I bleed too.”

 

 

Josephine pointed it out, as Clarke had wiped black blood from entering her mouth. It tasted like metal, and it was distracting.

 

Her nerves were tingling, like they were on fire with adrenaline.

 

“Get out of my head.” Clarke gritted through clenched teeth, her hair a tangled mess because she’s moving so much. The low ponytail she once had was gone, and she had no idea where the tie had ended up. It didn’t matter, nothing else mattered than getting back to her friends. “ _Get out_.” She repeated again, only running towards Josephine to slam her against the wall. 

 

A wall that was almost empty of her memories, if she would add. 

 

Josephine’s head hit first, and the impact startles Clarke only for a second because it meant she was doing damage. 

 

“You’re making me forget everything I’ve ever done,” She yells, grabbing her by the collar and slamming again. “All the people I’ve met, loved, met. How is this fair to anyone?” 

 

Josephine looks dazed, but her eyes still stayed strong. “It’s not fair, Clarke. That’s the thing.” 

 

Clarke scoffs, and that gives Josephine the opportunity to put both hands on the other girl’s shoulders to push her backwards. It causes Clarke to land on the floor, and the impact of her back hitting the metal floor was enough to make her scream out and arch her back to try and relieve the pressure. 

 

Josephine was quick, pulling Clarke upright into a chokehold. She had wrapped an arm around her neck, her hand intertwined with the other and she tugged and pulled until Clarke was secured. 

 

“Life isn’t _fair_ , Clarke.” She made sure that Clarke’s body was held tightly around her legs and she took a deep breath just to mock her. “I died so long ago because my father had to be the first to experience the eclipse and he killed his entire family. Once he figured out how to pass on his genes through technology he had brought from Earth, he kept his family _alive_ for generations.” 

 

Clarke could hear the awe and shallow tone in Josephine’s voice, somewhat making her want to feel sorry for a girl who died so young. She understood the feeling of being empty when something terrible happens but, that gave no excuse for the _real-life_ body snatchingthat had taken place _._ It gave no validation to the way her mind had been robbed to control her own body. 

 

Clarke feels her lungs start to construct and she wonders if this is how she was going to die. Is it better that she’s going out not remembering the horrible things she’s done? Is it better to forget the people she loved? She wanted to cry and scream until her lungs gave out. Her life was never meant to be peaceful, not after her father had been the chain reaction to her world crumbling down. 

 

 

She couldn’t even remember how her own father looked like, as every few minutes would pass—another drawing would disappear. 

 

She had recognized a few still. 

 

 

_Her mother._

 

_Madi._

 

_Lexa._

 

 _Bellamy_. 

 

They were so important to her, and at least she would die remembering them.

 

Josephine’s voice cracks through the darkness that’s starting to consume Clarke, “Your mother sent you to the ground didn’t she? She sent you to Earth after letting guards shoot you with a dart to get you knocked out? What a great _mom_ she was, right?” 

 

Clarke flails her arms and her hair is in her face, hand gripping to Josephine’s elbow to try and pull. She gets teased, her ability to breathe was like a game to Josephine. Her grip loosens to give false hope, but it’s not helping Clarke much. 

 

The drawing disapears before her very eyes, the black lines quickly turning to white and blended in with the color of the  room. Her mother did _what_ to her?

 

”I don’t know the name of the girl sitting on the throne? Was she important to you? Did you love her?,” Josephine adds with fake curiosity. She didn’t sound interested in the slightest, as she was trying to play her cards right. Clarke doesn’t say anything, not able to speak because everything was getting foggy in her brain. “Too bad you’re forgetting her and your mother, I couldn’t imagine not knowing my mom.” 

 

Clarke feels the tears come down her face, they were warm and too many at once. She was angry and everything in between, not knowing what else to do. 

 

“Stop,” She tried, her voice hoarse and low. “Let go of me, please.” 

 

“This is the only way, Clarke.” Josephine says, and Clarke wants to imagine a sad smile on her face as she spoke. 

 

A beat of silence. 

 

It gives Josephine motive to speak and turn her attention to the young girl that’s taken half the wall on the opposite side of the wall. Her drawing was one of the most detailed, with lines that determined her hairline and clothes precisely. It was like Clarke had spent the most time with her out of everyone else. 

 

“The girl means a lot to you doesn’t she?” Josephine asks. “I’ll make sure to take care of her as best I can, I swear to you.” 

 

Then, just like that—Clarke could feel her body start to wear out, she didn’t want to fight or consider the chance that she could get out of this alive. It seemed like she had forgotten all the people she had ever cared about, her mind feels empty and worn, and her chest was caving harder than before. 

 

Madi’s picture disappears, and it makes Clarke cry out. “No, _no_! She needs me, please I-“ She tries to lunge forward with the strength she has left, but Josephine had held on tighter which caused her to wince in pain. 

 

 

“We’re not quite there yet,” Josephine reminds them, her voice aggressive and authoritative. She had the power, not Clarke. “You have one person left that I need you to forget, Clarke.” 

 

It felt like she had nothing else to fight for, as her eye lids started to drop and her heart was heavy with feelings that couldn’t reciprocate with forgotten memories. 

 

Who could the last person be? 

 

 

Her eyes closed, and if Josephine wouldn’t of said his name aloud then Clarke would’ve stayed asleep and unconscious until she actually did forget he existed. 

* * *

_“My lantern wouldn’t float, I bet.” He shrugs, like it was nothing. When it meant that Bellamy didn’t feel like he deserved to feel like a good person._

 

_“Bellamy, I wrote down about leaving you in Polis.” Clarke blurts out, her heart having a mind of its own. The small piece of paper still clutched in her right hand as she looked down at him, he wouldn’t look at her._

 

_“Clarke, I don’t—“ He sighs._

 

_“No, please,” She starts. “Just listen to me, can you?”_

_He looks to the side, and then up at her face and she takes a deep breath. He nods his head slowly, even turning his chair to listen._

 

_“I never meant to hurt you, that’s the last thing I ever want to do.” She explains, and Bellamy let’s out a shaky breath. “I did what I did to protect Madi because she was the only person I had for so long, and I wasn’t thinking.”_

 

_“I get it, I understand.” Bellamy says after a few seconds of silence, not able to look at Clarke so vulnerable in front of him because it reminds him of when he was young and in love. **With her**. “If anything, I’m probably the only person who gets it. Madi is your family,” _

 

_Clarke cuts him off, making Bellamy bite his tongue._

 

_“No.” Her voice is sharp. “I lost sight of how much I hurt you, and how you’re my family too. I never want to hurt you because you’re too important to me.”_

 

_Bellamy is at a loss for words, his heart feels like it’s going to explode and he wishes things could’ve been different. If only he was with her—He can’t afford to think about the past, so he nods his head and stands from his chair to face a girl who’s shamefully capturing his heart all over again._

 

_“I’m not going to forget it again, Bellamy I mean every word.” She promises, and wraps her arms around his neck tightly as Bellamy catches her off surprise to embrace her._

 

 _It was a promise, and it was broken by an action she had no control over_. 

* * *

 

 

“Bellamy,” Clarke whimpered, trying to fight the urge to close her eyes and fall under. “ _Bellamy_.” She repeats again, trying to find a way out of Josephine’s hold when she finally realizes. 

 

When she first got to Sanctum, she had promised him that she wouldn’t forget the bond they shared. There had to be a way, any possible way, to get back in control and get back to him in real time.

 

”The relationship that you have with him honestly confuses me,” Josephine grunts when Clarke is putting too much effort in escaping. “You never were together romantically, but you guys loved eachother more than anyone has ever felt for the opposite person. Am I wrong?” 

 

Clarke gasps for air, her brain working in overload to try and think of something logicalto distance herself. It was hard to think when her mind was wiped and the amount of low oxygen she had been breathing in for so long. It wasn’t smart because her shortness of breath had lasted for ten minutes. 

 

Then, a thought hits her. 

 

She was still in control of her arms so she could hit Josephine from her front, and possibly hit one of her ribcages to knock the wind out of her lungs for enough time to pull away. It was a risky plan because If Clarke didn’t hit hard enough, it wouldn’t work and Josephine’s arm would only get tighter. She couldn’t let that happen, not when Bellamy was waiting for a beacon of hope. When she was holding onto the truth of being important to him, she had to keep going. 

 

After debating the risks, she goes into action. Clarke freezes under the weight of Josephine’s front against her back, much to Josephine’s shock and it gives her a chance to steady her elbow and cup her fist with her other hand. She extends quickly, keeping her arm at an angle to trusting her memory to make sure it’s correct and pulls back as hard as she could. 

 

Clarke knew it worked when she tried to hit her again, and Josephine let go immediately of Clarke and tried to clutch her side. She had yelped in pain, breathing heavy as Clarke had hunched over to regain her breathing pattern. 

 

The second she could see clearly with no black dots fogging her vision, she looked around the room to search for Bellamy’s drawing. She didn’t see it earlier, especially not when Josephine had tried to choke her because she couldn’t see half the things she had been describing. 

 

She held onto the wall, a hand keeping her upright as her knees almost buckled with the memory of the walk back to Camp Jaha after the events of Mount Weather. 

 

The tears from before were dried now, but It didn’t stop her from tearing up with fresh ones. 

 

_“You don’t have to do this alone”_

_“Come inside.”_

_“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you”_

_“It reminds me of what I need to get them here. . .what we did._ ” 

 

“Why does this hurt so much?” Josephine tries to ask, but the pain was evident in her voice so she sounded mumbled. “How did you do that?” 

 

“I’m a doctor,” Clarke responded, a hand on her heart to make sure she was breathing properly again. “I also know things about hurting people where it hurts.” She smiled a little, but it quickly turned into a frown when Josephine had started sniffling. 

 

The other blonde had turned around to console herself, and Clarke was ready to run to the door and see where and what this lead her to. Until, Josephine had turned to grab at Clarke and she had tears of black blood run down her cheeks. 

 

“How does this stop?” Josephine referred to the pain in her chest. 

 

Clarke doesn’t look at her face, already feeling the warm blood coming out of her own nose and run over her lips. “It heals, but over time.” Thankfully she wasn’t bleeding tears, but didn’t know why it was different for her. 

 

Josephine tries to push Clarke to the floor so that she could walk to the door and leave, but Clarke was knowingly faster and only felt Josephine’s hand strike across her face. The tears that fell weren’t all for the pain of getting slapped across the face, but for the reminder that she had done it. She had survived. 

 

“You’re done.” Clarke states, more of a demand than a kind selection of words for a goodbye. She wipes under her nose and tries to dismiss how lightheaded she feels now, “I’m not your puppet, and you’re not coming back.” 

 

“My parents will find a way.” Josephine says, and steps back when she noticies how confident the other girl seemed to be on the opposite fact. “They always do. If it’s not you, then they’ll find another person.” 

 

“Then so be it.” Clarke grabs Josephine by her hair, and pulls back hard enough so that she could look up at her determination. “They need to know what it’s like to lose people they love, and I need to get back to those who love _me_.” 

 

“If you walk out,” Josephine starts to say, using her strategy that keeps her host locked away for a little while longer. It would give her the advantage, “You won’t get your memories back.” 

 

“Don’t backtrack now, you told me the truth earlier.” 

 

“How do you know I didn’t lie?” 

 

Clarke pulled on her hair, and pushed her to the ground, right next to the bed she had previously woken up from. She doesn’t smile or frown when Josephine’s head hits the floor, as she slowly passed out from the pain and exhaustion, or when the room goes silent. 

 

She crouches down, knowing that Bellamy could disappear at any moment but she needed to say this. She had to get what she wanted to say off her chest when she had the chance. 

 

“It’s not smart to be confident in the beginning of a fight because you speak the truth to the enemy,” Clarke says, and stands up to walk towards the door and she twists the knob. “Or in the end.” 

 

It doesn’t take long to realize that she’s back on the Ark, in her old clothing, and that the halls that were once filled with teenagers she once knew, are empty. She looks back into her cell at the drawing of Bellamy in his ragged clothing, his mess of black curls, and she sighs happily. She wipes under her nose again, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Bellamy was still there. Clarke makes sure that the door is locked, and Josephine was knocked out on the floor. 

 

She goes to the only place she knew would give her an escape route, the launch pods. 

 

_Bellamy._

 

_Bellam_

 

_Bel_

 

 _B_ —

 

When it first happens, she instantly knew she wasn’t moving. She had come to an abrupt stop, not feeling a thing when her body hits the floor. She ends up seeing was a sea of darkness and the sound of metal echoing around her. Something was wrong, Clarke thought. She was so close, yet so far at the same time. One second, she had seen the door to open the panel room and her legs were running so fast that she was sure she could’ve been floating in space—next, she was falling forward faster and everything started to spin. 

 

She couldn’t forget Bellamy. She _can’t_. 

 

* * *

 

Her mind had been filled with darkness for so long that she didn’t realize she could move, until she had the urge to spring forward and sit upright in her bed. 

 

Clarke had thrown the comforter off of her body immediately, the heat was uncomfortable and she couldn’t stand to last another second. It felt like she was burning, and her body ached. 

 

Her senses were starting to come back to her, she knew she could try and hear and move her fingers back and forth. But the thought scared her, because what if it didn’t work? Would this be another game of Josephine’s? The doubt was quickly rushing to Clarke’s mind in tidal waves. 

 

She started to panic, kicking away the bed sheets and hand shaking as she hesitated to turn on the bedside lamp. 

 

Although the light was dim, it still made her look away and curl into herself. She pulled her hand back fast and kept it close to her chest. 

 

Was she alone? Did she really forget everything, and everyone she’s ever known. 

 

 _Clarke hated being alone_. She hated the silence, the unknown, the locked door how nobody seemed to be around to help her. 

 

She cautiously lets her legs dangle from the edge of the bed, incase they disappear or she falls to the floor with a thud. When her feet touch the carpet, she jumps slightly but let’s her toes mess with the material as she tries to keep her tears minimal. 

 

Clarke mustered the mental strength to stand, and she starts to walk towards the door with no idea on how to find the others. The door creaks, and it reminds her too much of what happened with Josephine inside her brain so she closes it again. _That was fake_. She has to remind herself, because even if it hadn’t been physically happening to her body, now it felt like she had gotten thrown across the room multiple times. She looks down at her clothes, a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved shirt with a black robe. The ends of her sleeves were stained with black blood, and she hasn’t seen a mirror yet but she’s sure that her face is irritated and smudged with her blood.  

 

The ache was mostly in her neck, like a pain that creeped up her spine. So she couldn’t look long, but she didn’t want to change just incase she needed to pretend she was Josephine. (Was she even Clarke?) 

 

She shook her head at the thought of her memories actually being gone, because if that turned out to be true, she would rather have Josephine take over again. 

 

She opened the door, and stepped out barefoot and tried to navigate her way down the hallways. Some things would flash in her brain as familiar, or urge her to stop in her tracks to look at something she had seen before. Clarke felt like a fish out of water, she didn’t know what she could touch and what she couldn’t. 

 

The ultimate feeling of fear and fiction was the driving force in her moving around. She tried to avoid big spaces as she risked being seen and she would have to talk, which she hasn’t done yet. 

 

Would she sound like herself? Did Josephine put on a facade for other people? Who would believe her, she had no idea. But; she had hope for one reason. It was Bellamy, the one person she wanted to remember. The one person she fought for, that’s who she wanted to see. 

 

She didn’t want to make a lot of noise,  especially when it could draw attention to her weird behavior so she settled on keeping quiet and searching the area without calling for anyone. Before she had turned into Josephine, she knew some of the landscape of Sanctum but now it changed. She didn’t know where she was, it had looked like a never ending hallway with multiple rooms. It was new to her, even after Josephine being asleep in her mind. 

 

Clarke decided to walk her way over the lake, it was close to the cabins that she remembered her friends were staying at and closer to her bedroom. She needed to take precaution, incase anything happened where she needed to act like Josephine or run away before anyone saw her. There was a lingering thought in the back of her head, wondering what would happen if Josephine woke up. 

 

She didn’t want to think about it, but it was there. It’s why she needed to find her mother so that she could take the chip out of her neck to restore her memories, although they seemed to be coming back naturally. Josephine was right initially, her memories would start to come back if she escaped in time. 

 

She did escape, and it felt like another win for a war that never stops. Clarke is always the one to put her life on the line to save others, the one who makes impossible decisions, and make it out alive. 

 

Clarke keeps her hands to her sides, as she tries her best to walk in a straight line to maintain her focus. If she wanted to get used to her body again, she had to stimulate herself with her senses. She had walked down the corridor in silence and thankfully, no one had awoken or followed her. 

 

She expects to find nobody sitting in one of the tables, since it was the middle of the night and she hasn’t seen nobody else outside—but there’s a man sitting on top of table made of concrete, his head tilted up towards the sky and his left hand keeps wiping at his face. 

 

She holds back a sob that wants to arise in her throat, emotions getting the best of her when she realizes who it was. When she gets closer, her feet had barely made any sound when she walks since she wasn’t wearing shoes, she could see that he was wearing almost the same clothes as her. 

 

“Bellamy?,” She croaks. He doesn’t turn around, and Clarke doesn’t know if it was because she had spoken too low. She clears her throat, but it sounds hoarse and the effort burns. “Bellamy, is that you?” 

 

Bellamy froze, but visibly clenches his jaw as he recognizes the voice. 

 

“What do I owe the pleasure, Josephine? Are you here to rub it in my face for the hundredth time that Clarke is dead? Or better yet, kill me because no one’s awake?” He doesn’t turn, simply keeping his head straight. 

 

“I’m not real to you?,” Clarke starts to panic, the reality sinking in that what she did to Josephine hadn't worked. Josephine had successfully defeated Clarke, and now she was gone and couldn’t be with the people she had loved because she _failed_ —But, how can she still remember him? How many tricks did the other blonde have up her sleeve? “I’m still Josephine?” 

 

Those words strike a nerve in Bellamy’s heart, causing him to turn around to face the girl he’s come to despise. “You need to stop playing these games with me, I don’t need a reminder of Clarke being gone every five hours.” 

 

The moonlight had started to cascade down on them both, creating light in a web of lies and pain. Bellamy had returned back to his original stance, not bothering to turn to acknowledge his company. 

 

“It didn’t work,” Clarke says and she runs her hand through her hair. How could she do that? There’s too many questions running in her brain, she can’t focus and she wants to start crying. “Bellamy, it didn’t work. I tried _so_ hard—“

 

”Your Clarke impression isn’t going to convince Abby that you aren’t her daughter, so why don’t you stop trying and leave me alone.” 

 

“ _Bellamy_!,” Clarke pleaded, her voice shaking and desperate. Her fingers nervously pick at the ends of the sleeves on her robe, as she lets the panic and failure consume her. She didn’t make it, she was really dead. Was Bellamy even real at this point? Or a lucid dream? 

 

“Are you real,” She starts to ask, “Please tell me that you’re alive, and I’m going crazy. I fought Josephine—“ Clarke steps backwards, incase Bellamy would explode on her with accusations that she had no idea what they were. As she does this, Bellamy slowly turns and he wipes at his cheeks fully now so that he could see clearly. _Could it be_? “Bellamy, I fought her and she told me this would work. Do you not remember me?” 

 

Bellamy blinks a few times, and Clarke takes that as her answer. It was clear that he didn’t know, so she backed off and turned on her heel so that she could run back to her bedroom and come up with a plan to talk to Russel. She would have to do this alone, since the one person she thought would believe her didn’t spare a glance in her direction. 

 

“You know what,” She says, “You’re right about all of this, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

 

She turns around, wrapping the robe tightly around herself before trying to wipe her tears before Bellamy would realize something was wrong. Even if he didn’t like Josephine, he would notice anything she did. 

 

Clarke takes the first step, and she blames the fact that her ears were ringing from sensitivity to any sound because she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. 

 

Bellamy stumbled off of the table he was sitting on, running towards her with his brows furrowed together and his eyes glossy. He was able to grab her hand before she got too far away from him and he pulled back, not bothering to alter his position when he pulls her to his chest. 

 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” He says softly, his brown eyes were big and wide. From this close, Clarke could see the bags under his eyes from not sleeping. “Clarke, is it really you?” He licks his lips that suddenly became dry. 

 

“Bellamy,” She sighs, suddenly the doubt that had tried to take over was gone and she was captivated by only him. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s Clarke.” She smiles, and Bellamy laughs through his watery eyes. 

 

“I thought you were gone,” He tried to tell her, and she doesn’t stop him when his shaky hands are cupping her face and pulling her a bit closer. “Everyone kept telling me you were dead, and I didn’t want to believe any of it. _God_ , Clarke it’s been days.” Clarke understood how tough it must’ve been for him, so she just nuzzles his hand and nods her head as best she could. 

 

“Are you okay?,” He asks, and his gaze tries to scan her face for any injuries or signs of Josephine anywhere. “How are you in control? How are you here?” 

 

“I woke up on the Ark, and all four walls had been filled with drawings.” She explained, swallowing thickly. It was hard to remember what had happened as a whole, but she tried to keep it as detailed as possible. “Drawings of people we knew, things we experienced and memorable moments in my life. I barely got out of there in time, Josephine was trying to knock me out to keep me in there long enough so that my memories wipe out.” 

 

“You remember me, still?” Bellamy asks curiously, naturally pulling back a little to give her some space if she didn’t know who he was. 

 

“Bellamy, I—“ She bites her tongue. If she said this, it was truly change things and he would know how she felt and how important he was to her. In the past, this part of a relationship with someone would result in terrible things. She couldn’t lose him, not like the others. 

 

“It’s okay, Clarke we could figure it out together if you don’t.” Bellamy interrupted her thought process, but she continued. 

 

“I almost didn’t make it,” She held onto him when he frowned down at her, needing the support he always gave her in that moment. “You were the one that kept me alive, I fought Josephine as hard as I did because you were the last drawing on the wall and I didn’t want to forget you. I _couldn’t_ ,” She shut her eyes hard to keep her tears back, as Bellamy held her close. “I couldn’t do that to you again.” 

 

“Oh, _Clarke_.” 

 

“Don’t say anything, please.” She adds on quickly. She didn’t want to hear a response that wouldn’t make her feel happy inside, “You don’t need to say anything Bellamy.” 

 

“Clarke, let me—“ 

 

“I don’t know if Josephine will wake up inside my mind in the morning,” She cuts him off, fighting the desire to wrap her arms around him and pulling him closer to her body. Her heart was on her sleeve and visible, and she didn’t want to hear a response if she wasn’t going to wake up tomorrow morning. “So I need to find my mom when she gets up so she could help me.” 

 

“ _Clarke_ ,” His voice was soft, filled with adoration and tone gentle. Bellamy tugged at her hand, intertwining her fingers and his other hand had cupped her cheek for the second time. “Whatever you do, I’m right there next to you. We do things together.” 

 

He leans forward and presses his lips against her forehead, and she gasps softly in awe. She closes her eyes to take in the moment, the feeling of his lips on her skin for the first time. They linger longer than needed, but neither of them say anything. 

 

“I’m not losing you again.” He whispered to her, a promise that he’s sure to keep. 

 

“What does this mean?” She asks, taking her chances and looking up at him so that he could pull away. “You can’t do that and not expect me to feel anything in return, Bellamy.” She reasoned. 

 

He caresses her cheek, and her hand curls around the one that’s on her face and neither of them say another word. 

 

If he notices the black blood stain on her shirt, he doesn’t say anything. 

 

He leans in again, his mouth on her cheek and he placed a soft kiss there before pulling away and caresses the exact spot. Clarke takes a breath, and stares at the man in front of her. That was her answer apparently. 

 

“In the morning, we find Abby okay?” 

 

Clarke nods. 

 

“But for right now, I just want to hold you so I’m convinced this is real. Stay with me, will you?” 

 

So she does. Clarke listens to him, and stays wrapped in his arms until the morning. Clarke thinks of going off to find her mother herself, before Russel got up from sleeping, but she thinks back to last night. She smiles, and shakes Bellamy awake so that they could find her mother together. 

 

They needed a plan, but as long as she had Bellamy and she was alive, it was alright to live in the moment for a while because she never knew when the next issue would arise. There’s always bound to be one anyways, this was just another fight in her war on survival. 


End file.
